Half a dozen trips to fill up my husband’s Prius, back and forth between our home and the car I go, mechanically piling things in the front and the back. When I’m finished, there’s barely room to drive. Loose dog food in a huge plastic bin, dozens of cans of specialized food. Then the treats: an assortment of tiny, teddy-bear-shaped biscuits; little rawhide chews; meatball-shaped, chicken-filled balls; and other specialty treats Ghillie loved, along with the standard medium-sized biscuits. There’s also an IV drip we used at the end, distracting our Sheltie with frozen cream-cheese balls and spoonfuls of peanut butter while he endured the needle for 30 minutes.

Plush squeaky toys go on top of the unopened treats, the fluffy stuffed toys that were a favorite of Ghillie’s long after he was probably too old for them: a giant, multicolored jack; a Santa Claus he loved so much…

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